Slow Dance
by Tigerlily Brown
Summary: He tasted of dark peppermint and the faint, sweet aroma of wine...


_Thanks a bunch to D.K. Rhoswen for giving this a read-through for me!_

The night was clear and crisp, the thin air cool on the roof of the massive Sanctuary. A woman sat on the rim of the wall, her bare feet dangling over the edge and high-heeled shoes abandoned behind her. Eyes glassy and fixed on the horizon, she pulled her thin black sweater tighter around herself and mused idly that the city lights and stars above made a rather impressive sight, both ironic in their clashing natures and breathtaking in their similarity. The bright, twinkling lights seemed to mesh so well – almost imperceptibly – at the tops of Old City's buildings.

"If you weren't quite so infallible, I'd warn you against catching cold."

The voice came as a startling fracture in the perfect stillness of midnight, but Helen had been aware of his presence for some time.

"Nikola," she said simply, neither inviting him to join her nor asking him to leave, placing no inflection or connotation on his name.

His footsteps as he drew closer were quiet. They reminded her of his silently fading life, his mortality.

"Did you always have such a penchant for dangerous heights, or is this a new development since you've become nocturnal?" he joked.

Helen allowed herself a slight, bemused quirk of the lips and turned her head to face him, patting the cement next to her. "I suppose it's mentally stimulating," she said as he maneuvered his thin limbs to perch on the ledge with her.

And it struck her how they were so similar to the night sky and city lights – one would endure perhaps infinitely, and one would fade with time.

Their minds were occupied the same thoughts and fears in the long moments when they remained still, each silently absorbing the warmth of the other's presence.

Although fully aware that her carefully constructed resolve was beginning to fail, Helen was the first to speak. "For the first time in my life, I face the prospect of being truly alone."

Nikola looked over at her, his gaze dark and solemn, but she resisted the pull to meet his eyes.

"I don't pretend that this –" She cursed herself for the audible catch in her breath. "…That this new development affects anyone more than you. But I have always relied on The Five, on the security that you and the others would always be there. Even though we no longer worked together regularly, you would always be out there somewhere for me to find. Now with James passing… I don't expect that John shall ever return. And now you…" Helen bit her lip and allowed her eyelids to slip closed, face taut with fear.

"I suppose that a clever companion would assure you that you have the perfect family of sorts right here – Tiny Tim, Sanctuary Barbie, the savage butler, and the protégé." He spoke lightly, masking true sentiments with his usual cavalier humor, but Helen could hear the sting of bitterness in his voice.

She pulled her lips together in a tight, remorseful almost-smile. "I don't imagine it ever struck you what you would do if your immortality ceased."

"No," he said after a long pause, voice tense and clipped. "No, it didn't." With that he swung his legs over and stood up, beginning to walk away.

"Nikola."

The sound of his name stopped his retreat; he stood with eyes downcast and a hand on the nape of his neck.

She turned and stood up as well. "What will you do?"

"Well, I've still got to take over the world, haven't I? I'm on a bit of a tight schedule now."

Helen gave him a chiding glare, but the derisive cynicism in his tone sent a pang of guilt to her stomach. She took a few steps forward, forcibly holding his gaze, and said, "I'm sorry I couldn't revamp you."

He shrugged. "My invention worked too wall. I always feared my staggering ingenuity would come back to bite me in the –"

She let out a scoff and rolled her eyes, bare foot falling against the damp cement. "How can you be like this? Even now? Even when you're facing death, you brush everything off as some colossal joke."

He didn't respond, instead staring intently at her.

"Nikola," she snapped.

His gaze slipped down quickly and back to her eyes as he took the short step across the foot of pavement between them. The stars and city surrounding them fell away as he searched her eyes intently, gauging both the wariness and curiosity reflected in them. Mentally whispering a silent prayer, he leaned his head forward and brought his mouth to rest on hers.

Helen stiffened but did not resist – her passivity was almost unnerving – as he kissed her slowly, thoroughly, deliberately. The hand cupping her cheek was warm and comforting, and almost unconsciously, she – a few inches shorter without heels – tilted her face upward. He tasted of dark peppermint and the faint, sweet aroma of wine.

When his lips left hers for the last time, she remained where she stood for a few seconds. His hand was still tangled in the ends of her windblown curls, and her head was still upturned.

"You really meant it. What you said in Rome."

"Every word." His voice was uncharacteristically serious, but a slight grin surfaced as another thought struck him. "Except the part about the concierge."

Helen smirked. "Cheeky." Her gaze flicked back and forth between his eyes, her mouth set in a hard, thoughtful line.

Nikola could not guess her thoughts, instead pondering the way she resembled some mysteriously fetching goddess under the milky glow of the moon.

"I want you to stay," she said suddenly. "At the Sanctuary. At least for now."

With the way her voice trailed off, soft but still strong, he could not refuse.


End file.
